Let's Brew - 1910 Barclay Perkins Oatmeal Stout

A new type of Stout which evolved just before 1900 was Oat Stout. Initially, it was made with oat malt, but most breweries used flaked oats instead. Often in miniscule amounts. Believe it or not, the 3% employed here is actually at the top end.

For a pre-WW I Stout, the gravity is pretty low. In fact, it looks more a Porter with its gravity in the low 1050º’s. It demonstrates how vague the line between Porter and Stout had become.

The grist is remarkably complicated for the period. Starting with the base, which is a split of pale and SA malt. (I’ve substituted mild malt for the latter.) Then there are three coloured malt, brown, black and amber, which make up 35% of the total.

I’m not sure exactly what form the oats were in. The brewing record simply says “oats”. They could have been in malted form.

There were equal quantities of three types of English hops. Sussex from the 1907 and 1909 harvests and Mid-Kent from 1908. 

1910 Barclay Perkins Oatmeal Stout
pale malt	2.50 lb	21.98%
mild malt	2.50 lb	21.98%
brown malt	1.50 lb	13.19%
black malt	1.25 lb	10.99%
amber malt	1.25 lb	10.99%
flaked oats	0.375 lb	3.30%
No. 3 invert sugar	2.00 lb	17.58%
Fuggles 120 mins	1.25 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.25 oz
OG	1053
FG	1016
ABV	4.89
Apparent attenuation	69.81%
IBU	45
SRM	42
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part eleven)

It's been a while since the last instalment. I've still loads more, though. Nice to slip some 1970s nostalgia in with all the boring trip reports.

Today's trio are all, sadly, no longer with us. With a few exceptions, the passing of any brewery is a reason for sadness. They were around for very differing lengths of time. From almost 250 years to just five.


Gale
Horndean,
Hampshire.
Founded:    1847
Closed:            2005
Tied houses:    102

A brewery with a good reputation for its beers, but with little in the way of investment. When they sold up to Fullers in 2005, the brewery was totally knackered and required a complete rebuild. A shame, because they brewed some interesting beers. Partly because of the unlined wooden fermenters. Source of all the weird stuff in Prize Old Ale.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1037
HSB Best Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1051	moderately hopped and sweetish
Light Mild	Mild	draught	1030	lightly hopped
Dark Mild	Mild	draught	1031	thin and rare
XXXXX	Old Ale	draught	1045	winter; dark and sweet
Gale's Keg	Pale Ale	keg		full-flavoured for keg
Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Champion Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Tudor Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Prize Old Ale	Old Ale	bottled	1095	matured for a minimum of 18 months in cask and bottle
Nut Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		medium sweet
Nourishing Stout	Stout	bottled		sweet

Gibbs Mew
Salisbury,
Wiltshire.
Founded:    1750
Closed:            1997
Tied houses:    55

This was a bit of an odd brewery. Despite being quite small, Gibbs Mew enthusiastically embraced keg and, for a while, I believe they brewed no cask beer. Which didn’t exactly endear them to CAMRA. They brought back cask, but it was only available in a few of their pubs. I’m sure that I tried their beer at festivals. Didn’t leave much of an impression, though. Their tied estate was spread around Wiltshire and reached as far as the Isle of Wight.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Premium Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1039	malty
Bishop's Tipple	Barley Wine	draught	1066	full bodied
Special PA	Pale Ale	keg
Blue Keg	Pale Ale	keg	1034.7	stronger
Anchor Keg	Pale Ale	keg	1040.6	strongest
Super Mild	Mild	keg		sweet Dark Mild
Light Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Sarum Special	Pale Ale	bottled		high-gravity Pale Ale
Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled
Extra Stout	Stout	bottled		medium sweet

Godson
Old Ford,
London.
Founded:    1977
Closed:            1982
Tied houses:    0

One of the earliest new breweries which, sadly, wasn’t around for very long. Not sure that I ever came across their beer. 

beer	style	format	OG	description
Anchor Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1042	hoppy
Black Horse	Pale Ale	draught	1048	unusual and malty

Ice tasting

A breakfast of cheese, fruit juice and tea.

By the time I'm done it's 8:20. Just about time for a minimal breakfast. One slice of toast with cheese, juice and a small cup of tea. Not really enough to sustain me for any length of time.

We're driven to Del Bosque, site of the tasting. Where it's freezing cold. And the whole front of the building is open. Fat chance of it ever warming up.

I'm on a table with Sandy. The tiny heater behind her is powerless against the waves of cold air coming from the open front. Even with my coat zipped up, it's chilly. Why does nowhere in Chile have proper heating? Especially as far south as this.

We have 24 beers to judge. Though, unusually, we can see what they are. This is an open tasting. Not that it makes much difference. I've no idea who most of the brewers are.

There's nothing really awful. But many of the beers are oxidised. We're done in a couple of hours. Without any real arguments. Sandy is very experienced and picks up much more than I, the total amateur, do.

Judging done, it's time for lunch. I order a steak like yesterday. And have a couple of pisco sours to go with it. Because, well, why wouldn’t I?

Temuco downtown

After lunch, we're off to Klein. Where, after a quick look at the still, we start the brewer feedback session. Where we talk to the brewers about their beers that we judged. Luckily, Sandy took reams of notes. She's way more professional than me.

I have a couple of Camilo's gins to keep me going. The brewers could probably do with it more.

They look a bit shellshocked after the feedback from Sandy. She’s brutally honest, but also constructive in her comments. It’s quite odd having judges directly give their opinions to brewers. Hopefully, it helps them improve their beers. And they can sleep tonight.

About 18:30, we go back to the hotel. Me, Paddy, Sue and Chris. To pick up an overnight bag for our expedition to the mountains. Traffic is terrible and it takes us ages to get to the hotel. It's 19:30 by the time we set off for Lonquimay, where Paddy and I will be doing a collaboration brew.

It's a long trip. 2.5 hours. Rain has just stopped. As always seems to be the case here. We slip along the damp roads. Layers of green wrap the gentle hills. Trees clump in rows and squares. Wild and exotic. Massive monkey-puzzle trees stand watch. Clumps of yellow flowers explode from the earth.

Though most of the journey is in the dark. Which is a shame as the scenery as we approach the hotel is supposed to be spectacular.

Curacautín, the only place of any size once past the pull of Temuco’s gravity, has a neat boulevard, only spoilt by the approach being an abrupt 90-degree bend. With another right-angle bend after 500 metres. That’s the strength of a rigid grid plan for you.

The further we get from Temuco, the worse the roads get. I don't know how the driver can see where he's going. Worryingly, I suspect he can’t really. I prefer not to think about it too much and doze instead.

We enter a 4.5 km tunnel that’s only wide enough for one-way traffic. When we emerge, there's snow on the ground.

“Was that a railway tunnel? It looks like one.” I ask. It turns out it was. Built as part of a failed plan to connect the Pacific and Atlantic oceans by rail. The tunnel was later repurposed for road traffic. 

A platter of meat, onion rings and chips

 We're stopping at the hotel attached to the Lonquimay brewery. It looks like a ski lodge, with lots of wood. Chris rang ahead to order us some food: a sharing platter for four. With chips, onion rings and various types of meat. To be honest, I’m a bit past eating.

The only other customers are a couple of blokes watching footy on the TV.  Boca Juniors against Colo Colo, a Chilean team. I think it’s a Copa Libertadores game.

I have an interesting chat with Paddy about M&B, S&N and Courage, where he worked. It turns out Whorton Grange was a well-designed brewery. Closed when the land became too valuable. Not because it was impractical or unprofitable. You learn something new every day.

It's getting on for midnight when we turn in. No need for a nightcap. It’s been a long and tiring day.



Cervecería & Lodge Lonquimay
Lonquimay,
Araucania.
http://www.cervezalonquimay.cl/

 

Disclaimer: The First International Araucania Cervercera Congress paid for my flights and for my hotel in Temuco, along with food and drink. 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1906 Barclay Perkins TT Porter

Unfortunately, the Porter side brewing books from the late 19th and early 20th centuries have survived. Meaning I only have to odd record for one Barclay Perkins’ biggest selling beers, TT. Their standard Porter.

Porter was still a very popular draught beer. At least in London. In the rest of England, it was pretty much dead. While in London it was still a strong public-bar rival to Mild.

It contains even more than pale, brown and black, the holy trinity of London Porter malts, also including amber. Which Barclay Perkins seemed very keen on. Leaving the grist one third coloured malt.  Along with No. 3 invert it all makes for a very dark beer. No. 3 is a guess, incidentally. The brewing record just says ”saccharum”.

There are four types of hops: American, Worcester, Alsace and East Kent. All from the 1906 harvest, apart from the last which was from 1905, cold stored. 

1906 Barclay Perkins TT Porter
pale malt	6.25 lb	54.35%
brown malt	1.75 lb	15.22%
black malt	1.00 lb	8.70%
amber malt	1.00 lb	8.70%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.50 lb	13.04%
Cluster 120 mins	0.75 oz
Strisselspalt 60 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.75 oz
OG	1052
FG	1016.5
ABV	4.70
Apparent attenuation	68.27%
IBU	29
SRM	37
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Lights out

I rise around 9:30. Just in time for breakfast.

None of the other international guests are here yet. The only others at breakfast are a Chilean family. The TV has a report about snow in Argentina. Then there’s a piece about the police smuggling drugs in Santiago airport. Talk about a swift change in tone.

A breakfast of toast, scrambled egg, fruit juice and tea.

There’s lifeless-looking cheese and ham, a little piece of cake and some toast. Though I’m brought some plain scrambled egg. The jug I expected to contain coffee, has hot water. To be added either to the tea bags or instant coffee. Instant fucking coffee? In South America?

It’s not the greatest of breakfasts. But I’ve definitely had worse. Notably, one in the US where the cheese was more plasticy than the plastic it was wrapped in.

I’m picked up by Camilo. about 12:30. We’ve some time before the first event.

“What do you want to do, Ron? Do you want to go to a pub? Or do you want to go to my beer garden?”

“Beer garden, please.” I really enjoyed myself there yesterday.

As we drive across Temuco, I get a better idea of the town. It’s very sprawly. And is mostly estates of identical two-storey houses. It looks oddly like the UK. Except the neat front gardens of many are protected by a two-metre-high metal fence. And some contain shops and other businesses.

Biergarten Klein is surrounded by such housing estates.

Camilo tells me: “We used to be outside the city, but it’s spread around us.”

Once inside, standing in front of the Beer Wall – his multitude of taps – Camilo asks:

“What would you like to drink?”

So much choice. But, as I rarely see one: “I’ll have a Märzen.”

Camilo's impressive still

Camilo takes me to see the brewery. Starting at the rather impressive still. He’s just about to distil his whisky and he lets me taste the wash. It’s very malty. Quite sweet. Surprisingly drinkable for something that isn’t meant to be drunk.

The still came from the Czech Republic. And looks very professional.

Inside the brewing hall, fermenters crowd together. It’s rather full. With all the usual stainless-steel stuff.

Out in the garden, we chat about his plans. As I slowly down my Märzen. It’s very peaceful. Unfortunately, we can’t linger long. Camilo has things to do. (There’s a surprise.) He’s going to drop me off at the restaurant which will host the judge’s reception. Later. Quite a bit later.

I’m rather early. At Del Bosque. The restaurant of Luis, who picked me up yesterday. I enter through one house and am led through to the one next door. Another part of the restaurant which must have been reserved for the reception.

A long, wooden table at Del Bosque

I sit, alone, at one end of a long table. It’s slightly disconcerting. After a while, a waitress brings me a pisco sour. That makes me feel a little more comfortable. I’m really hours early.

There’s some more waiting. I order a Quadrupel. A bowl of ceviche is placed in front of me, without explanation. As no-one else looks like turning up soon, I tuck in. I do like a ceviche.

A pint of Quadrupel.

My period of solitude suddenly comes to an end. As Chris turns up with Markus Raupach and Sandy Cockerham. Everyone gets a pisco sour and we settle down to order food.

I plump for a steak. With an Imperial Stout. An excellent pairing. If you believe in that sort of thing. I’m just a pisshead going for the strongest available beer.

When we’re about two-thirds of the way through our nosh, all the lights go out. What the fuck? The lights in the next-door room are still on. Staff scurry about a little. Sandy uses the torch on her phone to see her food. It’s very atmospheric. If impractical.

My steak at Del Bosque.

The problems with the power aren’t solved. We decant to the other room. And the other guests arrive. Which prompts another round of pisco sours. I’m never going to turn down a pisco sour.

I continue with Imperial Stout. It’s going down nicely enough, so why change?

Various nibbles and pizza are served. As we sit around a large table and chat.

I’m next to Paddy Johnson and his wife Sue. He’s an owner of Windsor and Eton, a very well-respected UK brewery. Earlier in his career he worked at a variety of Big Six breweries, starting in 1979 at Horsleydown, Courage’s London brewery. Which really gets my attention.

We discuss Russian Stout, a subject very close to my heart. Turns out, when it was brewed in Horsleydown, they genuinely did have someone who kicked the casks around the brewery yard.

While we chat. I have another Imperial Stout. It only seems appropriate.

It’s getting pretty late when we are driven back to the hotel. I crash, without even pausing for whisky.



Restaurant Pizzas del Bosque
Vicuña Mackenna 678,
4791118 Temuco,
Araucanía.

Disclaimer: The First International Araucania Cervercera Congress paid for my flights and for my hotel in Temuco, along with food and drink.

Flying further south

I rise around nine. And go for breakfast straight away. Without even brushing my teeth. I'll do that after I've eaten.

A breakfast of two fried eggs, bread, orange juice and coffee

Two fried eggs again. That does me very nicely. Along with a bread. Which I can't be arsed to toast. And orange juice and coffee, obviously. Especially the latter. I need a good wakening up.

After eating, I don't get to laze around in my room for long. As checkout is at eleven.

An Uber has me in the airport by 11:30. Which leaves me quite a while hanging around, as my flight isn't until 15:15.

Once airside, I have to wait around until 90 minutes before my flight before the gate is announced. In an area that’s being rebuilt and there’s fuck all. Other than a café/bakery type thing. I grab myself a coffee and start typing up yesterday.

My flight is delayed. I message Camilo, who’s collecting me at Temuco airport, to let him know I’ll be late.

Finally, my gate is announced. Of course, it’s at the end of a long pier. I trundle along it trundling my bag behind me. Oh look, there’s a little café next to my gate. With beer taps. And what’s that bottle I spot behind the bar?

“Un Havana Club, por favor.”

I don’t understand the reply exactly, but I get the gist, No alcohol. I console myself with a diet cola. And flip out my flaptop.

Once my flight starts boarding, I head to the priority queue. Old folk like me shouldn’t be kept standing for too long.

The flight is totally full. And the legroom is crap. But it's only an hour. Thankfully. Any longer would be pure torture.

Temuco airport is tiny and modern. Just how I like my airports. As I’m waiting for my bag, I look around to see if I can spot Camilo. No luck. But there is someone holding a sign saying “Ronald Pattinson”.

It’s Luis Castro and Camilo Rodriguez. Neither speaks English. They communicate with me using a phone. Surprisingly effectively.

Inside Biergarten Klein

We drop by the hotel to dump my bags. Then, with scarcely time to draw breath, it's off to Biergarten Klein. Where another Camilo, Klein, is waiting for me. The owner.

I start with an IPA. Along with a taster of a beer brewed with the Patagonian lager yeast.

“Would you like something to eat, Ron?” Camilo asks and mentions some of the options.

“Ceviche, please.” Tasty and not too heavy. And it goes well with the IPA.

Ceviche, toast and IPA

I follow it with two pisco sours: Peruvian then Chilean. Pisco sour is like ceviche: you really can’t go wrong with it.

Camilo makes his own gin. He gives me three different ones to try. Quite large measures, but I’m not complaining. London Dry gin was one of the three. And my favourite. I like it so much, I get another one.

I’m sure Camilo looks familiar. But I meet so many people on my travels. It’s impossible remember everyone. Then he says he thinks we met in Blumenau in 2020. Indeed, we did. We had a barbecue meal with Stephen Beaumont. A very memorable meal, where Camilo acted as translator.

Three glasses of gin,.

He’s a very energetic chap, Camilo. With lots of ideas. Beer. Gin. Now he wants to grow hops. And make whisky.

I drink more gin. With the beer garden’s own tonic, I think it was with tonic. Things are getting blurry around the edges. Am I entering a time abnormality?

I'm feeling a bit wobbly at the end. It's pissing it down as we leave and the ground is very uneven. I’m sure that’s why I need some support. Not that my legs are totally numb.

That must have been some time abnormality. Because several hours have disappeared. What over explanation could there be?

I collapse into bed without even a whisky nightcap.



Biergarten Klein
Los Ganaderos 03326,
4811829 Temuco,
Araucanía.
http://www.klein.cl/
 

Disclaimer: The First International Araucania Cervercera Congress paid for my flights and for my hotel in Temuco, along with food and drink. 

 

Pisco time

I've had a good, long kip. Which is exactly what I needed. About nine I traipse downstairs for breakfast.

It's not a bad buffet. And I get two fried eggs. Along with some ham and cheese. Followed by fruit, obviously. I'm so health conscious.

A breakfast of ham,cheese and fried eggs

Chris is due to pick me up at noon. But he messages me to say he's going to be a bit late. No problem. I can just chill in my room for longer.

Then I remember: last time I only took a couple of photos of Concha y Toro. I spend a few minutes snapping the beautiful houses.

Houses on Concha y Toro

The sun shines down on us as we race through the countryside, the snow-tipped Andes to our left. We're headed to Pirque, where Tübinger, Chris's brewery, is located. It really is a lovely day. The sun shines, the snow on the mountains gleams.

Pirque is a pretty little town, which lives up to its name. Being derived from the indigenous word for a type of large round rock found locally. It’s much used as a building material in the town.

I first met Chris in 2017, on my first trip to South America, judging Copa Cervezas de America in Santiago. We’ve since become good mates, bumping into each other several times in Brazil. On that first trip, he drove me and some fellow judges out to his brewery for a barbecue.

Tübinger taproom and my mate Chris Flaskamp

It’s changed quite a bit since then. There's now a rather swish circular taproom. Where I kick off with a pint of Haka Mau, an IPA with New Zealand hops. It's rather nice.

After a quick tour of the brewhouse, we take seats on the patio and Chris gets me samplers of twelve beers. Pretty much his full draught range.

After some beer we get food. I plump for ceviche. Because, well, you can't go wrong with ceviche. Which turns out to be the case. It’s rather tasty.

Tübinger beer garden with mountains

It really is idyllic out here. Children play happily in the beer garden, with the icing-sugar dusted Andes towering behind them like a monstrous cake. While their parents sip beer in the shade. Everyone breathing in the pure mountain air.

I could happily sit here until nightfall. Sadly, we need to get back to Santiago. Chris drops me off at my hotel. Where I rest up for a while.

Chris returns a couple of hours later to pick me and Pete Slosberg up. To take us to tonight's destination: Républica Independiente del Pisco (the Independent Republic of Pisco).

"You're going to love it." Chris tells me. I’m sure he’s right. Being well aware of my liking for pisco sour from my first time in Santiago.

It's a cool but traditional-looking bar. Just my sort of place.

"Shall we get some flights?" Chris suggests. That's fine by me. I want to be flying as soon as possible.

Pisco heaven

We get three flights of three: Peruvian, unaged Chilean and aged Chilean. We start with the first. They are surprisingly different. I think down to the grape varieties used. And pretty tasty, despite having no age on them. Fruity, is, I think, the best description.

Next, it's the turn of the unaged Chileans. Though two of them do have a year or so of oak ageing. Again, all three are quite different and slip down nicely.

The last flight consists of two six-year-olds and one ten-year-old. All I can say is wow. The six-years are pretty damn tasty. But the ten-year is just wonderful.

Pete initially says he only wants a small taste of each. And I can finish all the samples off.  Which I would happily do to help him out. The lying bastard. Once he gets a taste for them, I don't get a look in. Especially with the barrel aged ones. He does let me finish a couple of the unaged ones. Thanks, Pete.

prawn, passion fruit and pisco

We get two plates of prawns with passion fruit to nibble on while we sip. A good little snack.

I have a pisco sour with green chili to finish. Warming against the cold night.

What an excellent choice this was of Chris. I think I'll be taking home a bottle of pisco for Andrew. And the evening was pretty good value. The food and pisco came to about 23 euros each. A bargain, I say.

Chris gets me and Pete an Uber, as we're staying at the same hotel.

A couple of shots of my hotel whisky soon have me racing to the land of nod.



Tübinger Taproom
C. Nueva 6a.
9480000 Pirque,
Region Metropolitana.
https://www.cervezatubinger.cl/


Chipe Libre - Républica Independiente del Pisco
José Victorino Lastarria 282,
8320165 Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.
https://www.chipe-libre.cl/

Flying South

Bit of a strange start, this trip. As my flight isn't until 20:35. Which gives me a big chunk of the day to continue my current project: creating my 1970s beer guide. I'm now about halfway through the independent breweries.

Before heading to the airport, I check my flight. It's delayed by 70 minutes. I delay my departure accordingly.

It's pretty quiet at Schiphol. Before I know it, I'm in the duty free buying a bottle of Tomatin. Not for me the delights of Islay whisky’ It’s all way too expensive.

The lounge is fairly quiet, too. Soon, I have a brace if whiskies and a plate of food. And get stuck into reading Private Eye. Which passes the time nicely. Some more food and a couple more whisky pairings see me well-prepared for the arduous journey ahead of me. Eighteen hours.

When the board says "go to gate", that's what I do. And hang around for 10 minutes or so before boarding. That's not too bad.

The flight is chock-a-block. As always seems to be the case nowadays. At least the bloke sitting next to me is tiny and doesn't take up much room. I'm most of the way through my fist film (Crazy Stupid Love) when the first food service appears.

I opt for the chicken rather than the veggie option. It's not very inspiring. I don't eat much of it. Just as well made sure to scoff loads down in the lounge. Two plates of the warm stuff.

After a second film, it's time for a kip. Which goes reasonably well. I get 7 or 8 hours of OK sleep. Not exactly deep sleep. Some sort of rest, at least.

The lights come back on and we're served breakfast. I eat a bit of it. Then we all have to get off in Buenos Aires. Traipse through the airport a bit, go through security, then traipse back to the plane. So much fun. Just what I need after a long flight.

It's less than two hours to Santiago. During which we're served another breakfast. I eat just a little of it.

Hurray! Not much of a queue for immigration. Unlike last time. But there's a new twist: the luggage takes ages to appear. The explanation: that the plane has to be fumigated. Great.

I message my mate Chris Flaskamp to warn him of the delay. He's waiting to collect me landside.

Despite being "priority", my bag takes ages to pop out. I'm starting to worry that it's been lost when it finally shows up. That’s a relief.

With Chris are Pete Slosberg and his wife Amy. Who arrived from the US a couple of hours earlier. I feel embarrassed that they’ve had to hang around for me. Not fun after a long flight.

Once in Chris's car, we head for Kross. A brewery located in Curacaví, between Santiago and Valparaiso. It was founded by a German Asbjorn Gerlach. He’s still involved, despite selling up to Concha y Toro, the largest winemaker in the world. Their distribution network means that the beer is widely available in Chile.

First, Asbjorn gives us a quick tour of the brewery. Which is pretty big. It has a capacity of 100,000 hl and is currently producing 70,000 hl.

We sit in the beer garden, chat with Asbjorn and, of course, drink some beer. It's a proper beer garden, with trees and everything. And it’s warm enough to sit outside.

We get several sets of samplers, encompassing all the beers on tap. Ranging from light Lagers to a strong Scotch Ale. Though most are in the range 5% to 5.7% ABV. I’m quite taken by the Maibock, which is a beautiful amber colour and well-balanced. That is, not too fucking sweet.

The others are peckish and order some food: empanadas and some sort of maize fritter. After my two breakfasts, I’m not really that hungry. My body seems unsure of what time of day it is. Almost a full day on the plane has confused the hell out of it.

Pete and Amy head off to Valparaiso with a Chilean couple they know, while me and Chris go to Santiago.

I'm staying on Concha y Toro again. It’s so calm there. In a different hotel, though. One which has no sign outside to indicate that it's a hotel. It's quite a contrast to where I stayed in with the kids. which had an original interior. This one is totally modern inside. And rather nice.

I should tell you about why I’m here in Chile. I’ve been invited to the First International Araucania Cervercera Congress. To do some beer judging and talking. They paid for my flight. And for my hotel in Temuco, along with food and drink. Here in Santiago, I’m paying my own way.

I arranged to meet Chris in town. But I'm too knacked. I just sit in my room watching YouTube and drinking the free bottle of wine provided by the hotel. After the long journey, rest is what I need.

A tot or two of whisky helps me to an early night.



Cerveceria Kross
Cam. El Toro 20589-20926,
Curacavi,
Region Metropolitana.
https://www.kross.cl
 

Smaller measures

As I was trudging my lonely path around the mean street of the Hoofddorpplein neighbourhood, I got to thinking of recent suggestion (I can't be arsed to look up the link). That moving to two-thirds instead off pints would reduce beer consumption.

That's total, utter, utter, utter, utter, fucking, bollocking bollocks.

There's the false assumption that people go out for a set number of drinks and then go home. That's not how most people drink.* They go to the pub for a fixed length of time. The number of drinks consumed is fluid.

You arrange to meet friends at eight and drink until closing time. You spend your lunch break down the pub. You meet at 1 PM for a few pints before the match. There's a set start and time. The latter usually being last orders. That's how social drinking mostly works. A fixed time, not a fixed number of drinks.

But there's an even bigger problem. People don't drink at the same rate from every size glass. The smaller it is, the quicker they drink. Two halves will be knocked back more quickly than a pint. As will a two thirds.

I'm not a fan of litre measures. They slow me right down. It becomes depressing that the thing takes so fucking long to empty. A half litre is much more manageable.

Do you see where I'm going? 

In my youth, 15 to 20 minutes per pint was a comfortable pace. Which I could up,  if needed, as last orders loomed. Six or seven pints in a two-hour session on average. I'd want at least five pints of Mild just to get an appetite for fish and chips on the way home..

I never said  to anyone "Let's go out for seven pints." It was "Let's meet at half eight in the Adelphi."

In general, the longer the session, the more pints I'd drink. I think this was especially true when drinking in a group.

Your average drinker, in a two-hour session would drink more if the glass were a two-thirds. Because they'd drink them more quickly than pints. And wouldn't have a fixed number of drinks in mind. 

Smaller measures would lead to increased consumption. Publicans should welcome them.

* Pensioners and filthy, dole scroungers** are exceptions. And people on shit wages. So I guess that's pretty much everyone in the UK now.

** I spent many happy years on the dole. Filthy scrounger that I was.

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part ten)

Back to my pointless guide to 1970s breweries and their beers. This time with a trio of breweries who are still, against the odds, operating today.

It's a bit sad, when I'm assembling this list, seeing how many breweries have disappeared. Many of which brewed either decent or good beer. And it's not as if they were all poorly run companies. In most cases, bad management wasn't the reason for closure. Neither was poor-quality beer. For the most part, it was external factors - principally a takeover - which did brewers in.


Everard
Leicester,
Leicestershire.
Founded:    1849
Closed:            still open
Tied houses:    134

Originally from Leicester, where the brewery had its headquarters, the beer was all brewed in Burton-on-Trent. Though the tied pubs were all within 30 miles of Leicester. Brewing in Burton ended in 1983 and production was moved to a new brewery in Enderby. Tiger was a pretty decent Best Bitter that cropped up reasonably often in the free trade.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Beacon Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1037	well-balanced
Tiger Draught	Pale Ale	draught	1041	stronger
Old Original	Pale Ale	draught	1050	malty and finely hopped
Burton Mild	Mild	draught	1033	Dark Mild
Tiger Special Keg	Pale Ale	keg
Amber Lite	Pale Ale	bottled		Light Ale
Red Crown Bitter	Pale Ale	bottled		Burton Bitter
Tiger Special Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		stronger
Gold Medal Barley Wine	Barley Wine	bottled
Nut Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		Brown Ale in large bottle
Bradgate Brown	Brown Ale	bottled		Brown Ale in small bottle
Meadowsweet Stout	Stout	bottled		sweet

Felinfoel
Llanelli,
South Wales.
Founded:    1840
Closed:            still open
Tied houses:    75

A local brewery whose tied estate was mostly around Llanelli and the Welsh coast. They were notable for being one of the first breweries to can beer in the 1930s. I served their beer at one of the early Great British Beer Festivals in Alexandra Palace. And very good stuff it was, too. I particularly liked their Mild.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1035	light and hoppy
Double Dragon	Pale Ale	draught	1040	distinctive light Bitter
Mild	Mild	draught	1032	darkish Mild
Bitter Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		stronger
Nut Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		not too sweet
John Brown	Brown Ale	bottled		stronger and sweeter

Fuller
Chiswick,
London.
Founded:    1845
Closed:            still open
Tied houses:    110

One of the two London independent brewers who had survived into the 1970s. At the time, Fullers pubs were mostly concentrated in West London, north of the river. Though they did have a few pubs in central London. For example, The George & Vulture, a pub I frequented quite a bit in 1979, when I worked nearby. Hock was a cracking Dark Mild, but was difficult to find. And, when you could, was often in poor condition due to slow sales.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1035.5
London Pride	Pale Ale	draught	1041.8	pleasant and fruity
Extra Special Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1055.8	well hopped and distinctive
Hock Mild	Mild	draught	1031.5	splendid and malty
Light Ale	Pale Ale	bottled	1032.2	parti-gyled with the Bitters
London Pride	Pale Ale	bottled	1045.6
Strong Ale	Strong Ale	bottled	1072	parti-gyled with Hock
Golden Pride	Barley Wine	bottled	1090	parti-gyled with the Bitters
Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		bottled Hock